Star Festival
by The Talentless Hack
Summary: SaitouTokio, AU.  Continuation of "New Year's."  "I did," she murmured, looking down at the floor.  "Not anymore, though." And the dampening of that enthusiasm was entirely unacceptable. Oh my vengeance will be swift, Saitou thought.


Happy Tanabata, Faithful Readership! In a departure from my usual non-observance of this celebration, I'm posting yet another offering from the Office Series, centered around this holiday, because hey, why not? Also, it would be creepy (even for me) to wait for Obon. So Tanabata it is! Yay Tanabata! :D

The first part of this installment will focus on the Tōhoku earthquake. It was one of the worst natural disasters of modern history, and the worst earthquake Japan has ever suffered, so it would be stupid not to bring it up, especially when I try to, whenever possible, ground my stories in reality. So for a little while, this is going to seem like it has no relevance whatsoever to Tanabata. Bear with me: as always, there is a method to the madness.

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><p>Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs in any way, shape, or form to me.<p>

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><p><span>More Of A Note Than Anything<span>:

_Tanabata_: Tanabata is a star festival centered around a famous Chinese folk story, "The Princess and the Cowherd," and celebrates the meeting of the deities Orihime (represented by the star Vega) and Hikoboshi (represented by the star Altair). Orihime, the daughter of Tentei, wove beautiful clothing on the bank of the Amanogawa (literally "heavenly river," i.e., the Milky Way). Her father apparently loved the cloth she wore very much, so she slaved over it pretty much all the time, and grew unhappy because although she loved her father and wanted to make him happy, she didn't see herself falling in love if she was always working on weaving the cloth. Concerned by his daughter's unhappiness, Tentei arranged for her to meet the cowherd Hikoboshi, who worked on the opposite bank of the Amanogawa. They fell instantly in love and married. However, once married, Orihime no longer wove the cloth for Tentei, and Hikoboshi allowed his cows to run wild. Angered, Tentei separated the lovers on opposite sides of the Amanogawa and forbade them from ever seeing each other again. Orihime pleaded with her father, despondent over her separation from her husband, and Tentei was so moved he relented and allowed the lovers to meet on the seventh day of the seventh month if she completed all of her weaving. However, the first time they tried to meet, they found that because there was no bridge they couldn't cross, and Orihime began to cry. She cried so much a flock of magpies came and promised to build a bridge with their wings so that she could cross over to Hikoboshi. It's said that if it rains on Tanabata, the magpies cannot come and the lovers will have to wait until next year.

_Customs_: Generally Tanabata is celebrated with several kinds of decorations, including tanzaku. Tanzaku are strips of paper upon which you write your wishes, and then hang them on bamboo, sometimes with other decorations, i.e. a Wish Tree. These decorations and the bamboo are then often set afloat on a river or burned, a la Obon with the paper lanterns.

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><p><em>Star Festival<em>

_XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX_

_April 2011_

His mind was wandering again.

Saitou Hajime frowned at his computer screen. He'd been staring at the same spreadsheet for ten minutes, but if anyone had asked him what it was about, he wouldn't have been able to answer, and that was a problem.

His gaze darted over to his secretary's desk. Takagi Tokio had been out for a week. No one in the office knew exactly why except for him: her brother-in-law Susumu was an employee of the Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant that had been so horribly crippled in March's Tōhoku earthquake. He had been quarantined from his family for a time because he'd been exposed to the high levels of radioactive waste, and Tokio had finally ignored her sister's protests and gone to visit and help with her nephews and comfort Tami, who was worried out of her mind for her husband's safety.

Saitou hadn't heard from Tokio since she'd arrived at her sister's a week ago. And at first, he hadn't minded: she was probably busy, it was understandable that he wouldn't be her first priority. But as days had passed, easy acceptance had turned into irritation, and finally, well…offense.

Because even though he realized he wasn't top of the list right now, he liked to think he was actually _on_ the list. Top five at least. And it rankled—and maybe even upset him a little—that he apparently wasn't. A man would be forgiving of his woman ignoring and forgetting about him for only so long, after all.

No one in the office was aware that their boss and his secretary had been dating since January. And no one suspected at all that they had been living together since March.

The second one had happened faster than Saitou had been ready for, and was directly related to the earthquake. Tokio's apartment complex had been badly damaged when a nearby apartment building had collapsed. The building had been condemned until such time as it could be rebuilt, and Saitou had moved her into his apartment with minimal qualms from either party, mostly because at the time Tokio had still been numb from shock, and he didn't, for a change, take the time to think things through. It had been a rough adjustment for them both for the first two weeks, but they had gotten the hang of a new routine by the end of the month.

Tokio had been driving him crazy, though. And not because her mysterious women's potions had taken over his sink counter, or her shoes and clothes had his closet at capacity, or because he didn't have his own space anymore.

It was because she watched NHK nonstop and scared the hell out of herself with worry for her family.

Saitou saw no practical purpose to that kind of behavior. And there was no way he could ignore it, because she was constantly updating him with reports he didn't want or care about, unless it involved the threat of radioactive poisoning from the beleaguered Fukushima Plant.

He had immediately set about finding out about his aunt once the power grid had come back on line. It had taken him almost the entire two weeks he and Tokio were learning to adapt to each other—and it had probably contributed a great deal to his own stress levels at the time—but he had finally gotten a hold of her and found out she was fine, that she had been evacuated and her apartment had been the victim of a landslide and she was being housed at the Japanese Red Cross center with other refugees until such time as she was able to find lodging. She had also prodded him into finding out how his parents and siblings had fared.

"Blood is blood, boy," she'd said over their grainy connection. "Poor form not to investigate, even if you don't much care for them."

He had made one call to his parent's house, and spoken to his father for all of a minute, just long enough to find out that everyone was fine and there had been no damage to the house, information he had relayed to his aunt since he knew she was worried about her younger brother. He hadn't called them since, and they hadn't called either.

They hadn't been able to go back to work for a few weeks; parts of Tokyo had been subject to soil liquefaction, including the area of Chūō Ward where their building was located, and they had had to wait for word from the company. They were currently sharing space with another branch in Toshima Ward. Saitou was no longer in his own office, because space was at a premium, but he didn't really mind too much. As an added plus, Toshima was closer to home than Chūō had been.

His eyes narrowed when he caught sight of the girl HR had found to fill in for Tokio until she came back: she was standing at one of the other desks, chatting—_flirting_, he thought with disapproval—with one of his employees. She was young, pretty, and completely uninterested in anything not good-looking and male. She had tried to butter him up her first day, but he'd shut her down hard and fast, and she had been short with him since, though never outright rude. It was just as well, because he didn't like anything about her. She wasn't as efficient as Tokio, or as quiet, or as good at her job.

Mostly, though, she wasn't Tokio.

And it irritated him how much that bothered him.

Maybe, he thought, gaze returning to glare at his computer, moving her in with him had been a mistake. Maybe he ought to have let her stay with one of the other office ladies. Because then he wouldn't have gotten so used to having her immersed in his life, and then maybe her not being around wouldn't have unsettled him so much.

Or maybe it was just one more thing on an ever-growing list of things that were out of whack because of the earthquake. He wasn't sure.

He was sure, though, that he didn't like not being able to concentrate on his work because Tokio hadn't bothered trying to contact him for a week when she damn well knew he didn't have so much as a phone number to reach her at. It was frustrating, and it had made him irritable in a way his employees had never seen from him. He was by turns impatient and demanding, but never outright annoyed—even when Birdhead snooped around—so it was a huge change. Most of them had attributed it to the fact that his right hand woman was out of the office, and that was pretty much the truth, though not for the reason his workers thought.

They also rightly attributed his short-of-late fuse to the fact that his fill-in secretary was a vapid incompetent, he thought, furious gaze going to the stupid girl and finding her _still_ flirting with the same man from before.

"Yamada," he snapped, his voice carrying throughout the cramped room even though he hadn't raised it. "You aren't being paid to distract my workers. If you need something to do, I can fix that for you."

The Yamada girl had the gall to look irritated, but she came back to her temporary desk and sat down.

"Did you need something?" she asked, not bothering to look at him, and Saitou snapped.

Literally.

"Pack up your belongings," he said, standing abruptly. "Your services, or lack of the same, are no longer required. And you can tell Okita, when you go whining to him that I'm a hateful, unfair bastard who booted you because I don't like you, that I don't appreciate his stupid sense of humor."

She gaped at him, and he noticed that half of the room was following her dubious example; the other half were pretending absolute concentration and/or interest in their work, though he didn't doubt for a second that they weren't paying as close attention as their less stealthy coworkers.

"What?" the Yamada girl finally squeaked.

"_Out_!" Saitou yelled, making her jump to her feet, and everyone else in the room flinch. "Get out! I don't care where you go as long as you _leave_!"

The girl was so rattled that she did just that: she ran out of the room as if Saitou were throwing things at her. He watched her hasty retreat with narrowed eyes, then turned his glare on his section, all of whom were now staring at him as if he'd lost his mind.

In unison, the entire office turned back to what they'd been doing before his outburst, and probably all gave themselves whiplash they were so fast. He glared at them for a few seconds more, then muttered under his breath and sat back down at his desk to scowl at his computer screen some more.

Later, he was going to feel like an ass for losing his cool in front of his section, but right now he just didn't give a flying damn.

Not five minutes later, the Idiot Brigade was cautiously approaching his desk, apparently under the impression that his peripheral vision was nonexistent. Usually he was willing to indulge the fantasy that they could pull a fast one by him, but he didn't have the patience for it today:

"What?" he demanded, sending them a look he knew had to be one of the more impressive in his vast arsenal, by the way Sekihara and Kamiya went pale and the anxious look Takani and Makimachi exchanged with each other.

"Yamada-san left without her things," Takani finally got out. "We figured we'd gather it up for her and give it to her."

"You know, since she's probably never going to come back here of her own free will ever again," Makimachi said with a weak smile.

"That doesn't require four of you," he said, ignoring Makimachi's comment because it was irrelevant and stupid and thus unworthy of acknowledgment.

"Takani-san's doing it," Sekihara blurted, and Takani sent her a killing look that almost made Saitou smile despite his bad mood.

"Fine, then do it and stop wasting my time," he said instead, dismissing them and going back to his computer screen.

There was a lot of furious whispering—_accusatory_-sounding furious whispering, Saitou thought, allowing the faintest of smirks to appear—and then Sekihara, Kamiya and Makimachi hurried back to their desks, Kamiya whispering what sounded an awful lot like "He's a lot scarier than we thought!"

Takani was good as her (or rather, Sekihara's) word, and dutifully gathered the Yamada girl's belongings. She was good enough to do so in silence, not that Saitou thought for a second that she'd try to talk to him—and especially not after the show of spectacular bad temper he'd displayed for all and sundry.

Or that was what he thought, until he realized Takani was eyeing him, Yamada's things in her arms, from Tokio's desk.

He turned his head just enough to send her a look that wasn't quite a glower but could get there quick.

"Something you needed?" he asked.

"Since I'm going to hand Yamada-san's things back to her, I thought you might want me to file that complaint with Okita-san for you," Takani said, all evidence of her usual cool poise once more in place. "Unless you'd rather do it yourself, of course, Saitou-san."

Saitou raised an eyebrow. "That right?" he asked. "How uncharacteristically generous of you, Takani. Angling for something?"

Takani smirked faintly.

"No," she said. "But she flirted with Rooster the other day and it…_irritated_ me."

"Bloodthirsty," Saitou observed, sitting back in his chair and giving her all of his attention now. "Sure, go ahead," he said finally with a shrug. "I can yell at Okita later when he comes to complain about how I'm unreasonable."

Takani actually smiled, and there was something almost fond about it.

"No one in this office would call you unreasonable after you lasted a week with a secretary who was more interested in collecting numbers than notes. Not that we would have before, either," she added unexpectedly, and Saitou's eyebrow jumped up again.

"Oh?" he asked.

Takani smiled in a way that was half her usual smirk of feminine superiority and half exasperated and unwilling affection.

"You're a decent boss, Saitou-san. I'll try to keep things moving along until Tokio-san gets back. We miss her too."

A pang went straight through him, because he really did miss her—more than anyone, including Tokio, would ever know—but there was a time and place for that, and this wasn't it. So he hid it under bad temper, because that was simpler:

"You aren't paid to stand around shooting the breeze," he said curtly, going back to his computer with a ferocious frown, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Takani's smile widen.

"Of course, sir," she said with a bob of her head, and then she swept out of the room, back straight and fully prepared to do battle.

Having seen her at her best, Saitou was almost inclined to feel sorry for Okita Souji, the HR manager…or he would have been, if he hadn't been the one to saddle Saitou with the twit in the first place.

As it was, he was much more disappointed that he wouldn't be able to watch Takani wipe the floor with him.

_XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX_

Lunch was a lackluster Styrofoam cup of instant soba at his desk, not that he had been expecting anything different after being so distracted this morning.

He was trying to make up for lost time when his phone rang. He muttered a curse under his breath as he answered it, briskly and a little too irritated-sounding than was strictly professional:

"Saitou."

"Hi."

His heart jumped at the word—_at the voice_—and he froze, staring at his keyboard.

"Tokio?" he asked in a quiet rasp after a moment.

"Is this a bad time?" she asked, sounding suddenly unsure.

"No," he blurted. "Now's fine."

"You're sure I'm not disturbing you?"

"No, it's nothing I can't set aside for a moment," he lied, eyes flickering to his monitor screen—and the spreadsheet that somehow seemed to glower at him from it—before taking off his glasses and leaning back in his seat. "How are you?"

"Tired," she said with a quiet laugh. "My monsters are still upset. They miss their father and want him back home. Tami does too. It's hard on all of them."

"Have they been able to talk to him over the phone?"

"Twice now. That helped a little. And I think in another two weeks, he might be cleared to go home."

_And when will __**you**__ be coming home?_ he wanted to ask, but swallowed the urge; it would just make her feel guilty, and if she felt like she was being attacked it might keep her from more calls, so it was better to keep it to himself.

He also couldn't bring himself to admit to such weakness for her out loud, even if it was just between the two of them.

"How are you?" she asked.

"All right," he said, then snorted. "Only I'm out a secretary, after today."

There was a pause, and then, "What did you _do_, Hajime?" she asked anxiously, and he smiled in true amusement for the first time that day.

"I fired the girl they sent me to fill in for you," he said. Then frowned. "_Badly_," he added flatly, shooting Tokio's desk a venomous look that, had the desk been sentient, would surely have made it quail.

She sighed softly, and he fidgeted, knowing by the sound that he was going to get one of her gently chiding lectures that made him feel like he was twelve.

"And what number secretary would this be?'

He was affronted by the question, and let her know it by his tone:

"The _only_ one I've had since you've been gone."

There was a long pause that indicated surprise, before she asked, "Really?"

It sort of chapped his ass that she sounded so amazed.

"I'm not an ogre," he muttered, glaring at her desk some more.

"I know you aren't," she quickly agreed, "it's just…I didn't think you'd be able to keep a replacement for so long."

"She wasn't a replacement," he said immediately. "She was a fill-in—and she was _bad_ at it—and I fired her. Now I'm just waiting to catch hell from Okita."

"Hajime, I know you're particular, and maybe a little spoiled after working with the same secretary for so long, but it's not her fault she can't anticipate what you'll need. We've worked together for almost a decade."

"All she wanted to do was flirt and bat her eyelashes at the men," he said in disgust. "I'd have taken a bumbling disaster in heels over someone utterly uninterested in work of any kind."

"Ah," she said after a pause. "Well, you still probably could have been nicer, though, knowing you."

"After dealing with her for a week? Doubtful," he said with a derisive snort, and Tokio sighed, then laughed a little, and his heart ached at the sound.

He hated small talk as a rule, and he wasn't very good at it besides, but he tried to keep her on the phone as long as he could with news from the office and his aunt and her parents, who had been checking up on him, much to his surprise.

"I asked them to," she admitted, sounding sheepish. "Tami's been talking to our mother every day, and I've been so busy with the boys...it seemed like a better way to hear about you if I couldn't talk to you."

His immediate response was to be a little irritated. His second was to smile faintly as warmth flooded through him, and the band around his heart that he hadn't even noticed until now loosened.

"I see," he said.

"I'm sorry I haven't called, Hajime," she said softly. "I've wanted to, but no time ever seemed good, and I just _miss_ you so much that even though now isn't really convenient I wanted to talk to you myself."

He closed his eyes and let out a quiet breath. He really shouldn't let her off the hook so easily, even though he'd been getting regular updates on how she was doing from her parents. He'd been worried and feeling ignored for a week. He should be as much of a hardass with her as he was with anyone else who'd caused him as much trouble—unintended though it was—as she had. But he had missed the _hell_ out of her, and he could hear it in her voice how she'd missed him just as much, and there was no way he could do it.

Not in the face of that.

"I miss you too," he said quietly.

There was a long, shared pause between them that Saitou savored, because he knew he'd surprised her, and then she said, "I'm coming home soon. One more week with Tami, just until I know for sure that Susumu's okay to come back. Then home."

"Okay," he said.

"I'll call every night," she promised.

"Every night?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No matter how tired I am."

"Sure you aren't promising more than you can deliver, Tokio?"

"Every night," she said firmly. "If I can't see you yet, I want to talk to you. I miss you too much."

Amazing, he thought with a faint smile of pleasure, that three very simple words could produce as many complex emotions as _I miss you_.

"Okay," he said again, his throat a little tight. "I'll hold you to that, then."

"Are you all right? Really?" she prodded gently.

"I just miss you," he said. "Once you're home...I can wait another week, I suppose." He heard laughter in the hall, and cleared his throat, straightening in his chair; interlude over. "I have to go," he said reluctantly.

"I'll call tonight," she said.

"I'll wait," he said.

Goodbyes were rushed, and then he was back on his computer, working, when the first of his section began trickling in. Takani marched over as soon as she arrived, took one look at his sad lunch and made a face.

"Tokio-san would never forgive us for letting you eat that, Saitou-san," she said, picking up the cup. "I'm ordering you something," she announced, sending him a look that dared him to say a word in protest. "And then I'll finish off what Yamada-san didn't."

Saitou eyed her, then smirked faintly.

"If you dare, Takani," he said.

And Takani wasn't nearly as good as Tokio either, but she was a hell of an improvement over the Yamada girl, even if she did think she could dictate his diet to him and he wouldn't mind. If she insisted on filling in for Tokio until she returned—the way it appeared she meant to—he foresaw several rude awakenings in her immediate future.

But he decided to be generous today.

After finally speaking to Tokio, he figured he could afford to.

_XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX_

Waiting made him impatient, but Saitou curbed it as best he could.

It wouldn't do to greet Tokio in a bad mood, after all.

As promised, she had called him every night, and even though after a while their conversations grew short on words and long on silences they continued to spend an hour and a half on the phone. It was waste that Saitou ordinarily would never have condoned, but at this point even listening to her breathe would do.

But she was coming home today, and that was all that mattered.

He had taken a half day to meet the train, not quite comfortable leaving Takani to man the office but also not worried enough to not meet Tokio. Takani had worked out quite well, to his surprise. She was a little too sharp-edged sometimes for his tastes—it was better, he had found, if his secretary compensated for his lack of warmth and generally stern demeanor by being everything he was not, and Takani wasn't quite soft enough to pull it off—but she was efficient enough and dependable for the most part.

She was going to be getting a stellar review, though, because she had stepped up without prompting to fill a deceptively dainty pair of serviceable high heels, and she had done admirably.

All of his faint misgivings—which he knew was more his own difficulties with giving up control than any deficiencies in his fill-in secretary—scattered when he heard the announcement that the train was due in, and then heard for himself the distant whistle. The next ten minutes were the longest he'd ever had to stand in his life, and then he saw Tokio, looking tired and rundown but happy to see him when her eyes finally found him, and it was like those ten minutes had never even happened.

He tried to meet her halfway, but even with the crowd she made it to him faster, and she launched herself at him and threw her arms around him right there on the fringes of the crowd. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, his head against hers, and _gods he'd missed her_.

"I'm home," she said against his shoulder.

"Welcome home," he said, kissing her temple and squeezing her again, delighted when she squeezed back just as hard.

Later, when they were alone, he'd kiss her the way he wanted to and show her exactly how much he'd missed her. For right now, holding onto her tightly—even in a crowded train station, which would normally have embarrassed him—was more than enough.

He kissed her temple again and enjoyed the feel of her in his arms, and the scent of her that was distinctly Tokio, and decided that any misgivings he'd had about moving her in with him prematurely were invalid, the result of worries that were, at second glance, stupid and unfounded.

He also decided that nine years was long enough.

_XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX_

_July 8, 2011_

It was going to be a blessing, Saitou thought with no small amount of amusement, when they were back in their own building again.

His eyes went towards where Tokio and the Idiot Brigade were gathered around the coffee pot. It was taking a while for his secretary and his coffee to find their way back to him, and he had an idea the Idiot Brigade had cooked up a new scheme. One that was apparently not to Tokio's liking at all, if it was taking so long to refill his cup. Takani's gaze went to him, and they shared a knowing smirk.

In the week and two days she had been his secretary, Takani had discovered exactly just how aware Saitou was of everything, which had first surprised and then quickly mortified her.

"You always know, don't you?" she'd asked, looking faint.

"Always," he'd confirmed with a nod, eyeing her out of the corner of his eye while smirking. "You aren't nearly as clever as you think you are, Takani."

She didn't seem to know whether to be embarrassed or outraged, and then she smiled sheepishly.

"Thanks Saitou-san," she said. "That's actually pretty...tolerant of you."

"The Idiot Brigade provides hours of entertainment, so I can afford to be tolerant," he drawled without thinking, and then silently swore when he realized he'd just told a founding member of the Idiot Brigade what he called said brigade.

"'Idiot Brigade,' huh?" Takani mused. "Tokio-san's right, you do have a sideways sense of humor. I'm more surprised you have a sense of humor at all, really."

"You don't get to tease with impunity," Saitou reminded her, and she smiled.

"Sorry boss," she'd said, and then she'd gone back to work still smiling.

The good thing about Takani, he decided as his gaze went over to Tokio to judge her level of discomfort, was that she was a little evil, and not at all averse toward keeping his secret. She even enjoyed it, particularly now, when he saw how much Tokio didn't want to be having whatever conversation she was having with the Idiot Brigade and decided to save her:

"Is there a problem at the coffee pot, Takagi?" he asked, leaning his chin on the back of his hand and watching the group with deceptively idle interest.

The whole group—minus Takani—flinched, and Tokio sent him a worried look that had alarm bells going off in his head.

Something was very wrong, and any amusement he was feeling fled immediately.

"No Saitou-san," she said, hurrying to his desk. "Sorry," she murmured, setting his coffee down on his desk.

"Outside, please," he said, gesturing to the hallway. He then sent Takani a look that wiped her amusement away. "Takani."

She nodded, getting the message, and ushered the women to their seats. Saitou waited until they were all back at their desks before he joined Tokio in the hall, trusting Takani to make sure no one tried to eavesdrop.

Tokio was waiting for him, wringing her hands and looking upset when he reached her.

"What?" he asked.

"They set me up on a blind date," she blurted, and it was a testament to how distressed she was that he didn't have to coax it out of her the way he usually did.

And then what she'd said penetrated.

"I _beg_ your pardon?" he asked, offended.

"For tonight," she said. "He's supposed to take me to the Tanabata festival—"

"He's not taking you anywhere," he said flatly, angry and feeling vindictive. "How dare they presume—"

"They decided to take matters into their own hands since I don't have a...well, you know," she said, blushing.

"You do," he shot back.

"Not one I can tell anyone about," she pointed out, and deflated some of his anger.

Inter-office romances weren't exactly prohibited, but they were frowned upon. They had kept it quiet only because it had seemed like the simpler thing to do, the easier route to take.

_That had changed in a hurry_, Saitou thought irritably.

"Tell them you're working late tonight," he said. "Tell them I'm keeping you late, that I need you to check over...I don't know, requisitions. No, tell them there was a system foul up with the shipping department that I need you to handle, and it's going to take a while."

"They'll insist," she said unhappily.

"One problem at a time, Tokio," he murmured, wishing he could hug her but knowing that was begging for trouble. "We'll take care of this one first, and worry about that one when we get to it."

"Okay," she said, looking miserable. "Now I wish I hadn't said anything about wanting to go to a Tanabata festival."

"You want to go to one?" he asked, a little surprised, because she hadn't mentioned it, and he didn't really have much use for festivals on the whole, so he didn't pay attention to them.

"I _did_," she murmured, looking down at the floor. "Not anymore, though."

And the dampening of that enthusiasm, even for a festival he didn't think was all that important, was entirely unacceptable.

_Oh my vengeance will be swift_, Saitou thought, watching her with narrowed eyes.

"Go to the restroom, calm down, then come back," he told her, already plotting his revenge on the Idiot Brigade. "Take whatever time you need."

"Okay," she said, finally looking up at him.

He softened his expression for her sake...and also so that she wouldn't guess the hell he was about to unleash on her so-called friends.

She was too tenderhearted to be appropriately ruthless with those presumptuous nags, but he had no such failings.

"Go," he said softly, gesturing toward the end of the hall, and she nodded and turned and went.

He watched her until she was out of sight, then turned on his heel, expression like thunder.

Thought they were going to upset his woman and get away with it, did they?

_XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX_

"What did you do?" Tokio asked suspiciously, keeping her voice low.

"Nothing," Saitou said.

"Then why does Makimachi-san keep sending you dirty looks?"

"Because Makimachi doesn't have enough work to do, apparently," Saitou said, raising his voice enough for Makimachi to hear him, and she quickly turned back to what she was supposed to be doing. Kamiya leaned over and whispered something that looked like a scolding, until Sekihara kicked her and gestured toward Saitou. When Kamiya looked over and met the full-force of his glare, she let out a startled eep and dove back into her work.

"Saitou-san," Tokio murmured, voice full of disapproval.

"Leave it," he said, tone full of warning, as was the look he sent her, and she pressed her lips together, obviously displeased, but unwilling to say more in front of the entire office.

Instead, she scribbled something and then handed it to him, as if it were a form needing his signature:

_You're being very stubborn._

He scribbled a reply and handed it to her:

_Yes, I am._

Her exasperated noise almost made him smile, but he quelled the urge; the Idiot Brigade was going to live in fear of him today, and nothing, not even teasing a rise out of Tokio, could dissuade him.

The sheet of paper came back:

_This is not appropriate behavior for a section chief!_

To which he replied:

_You are entitled to your opinion. The Hiratsuka Tanabata Festival started today._

He knew the second sentence would throw her off and divert her attention, and he was right; she did a double take when she read it, then looked at him. He ignored her in favor of the spreadsheet in front of him, frowning over a discrepancy that shouldn't have been there, but not so involved in his work that he wasn't aware of her. Her response took a while, but was predictable:

_Okay?_

He almost smiled.

_We can get there in an hour_, he wrote back.

_You want to go?_

_I wouldn't mind taking you._

She actually blushed a little, and he couldn't keep from smiling this time, so he hid it behind his hand.

_Tonight?_ she wrote back.

_Tonight._

She sent him a shy but very pleased look.

"Okay," she murmured.

"Good," he said quietly. "Now why are my numbers not jiving up?" he asked in a normal tone, switching to disgruntled because he'd been laboring over this spreadsheet for too long.

"Let me see," Tokio offered, standing and going to his side, and brushing a quick but soft hand over the back of his neck, so surreptitiously no one could see it unless they were specifically looking for it.

And the risk was great, but the reward more than outweighed it, so Saitou waited until she leaned over to put her hand on his mouse before he quickly drew his knuckles over her wrist. To anyone else it looked like an accidental brush in the course of his surrendering his mouse to her, but her eyes were warm when she glanced at him.

"This computer is very old," Tokio said.

"It's ancient," he muttered, "that's why it won't work."

She looked over the spreadsheet, then tapped in a new command, and did what she always did best.

"All fixed," she said cheerfully, stepping back, and he leaned forward to look it over.

"You're a gift from the gods, Takagi," he said, and sent her a faint smile. "May I never again know even a day without you."

She smiled and shrugged, then went back to work. And she didn't realize he meant that beyond the office, but neither did anyone else, so that was okay.

Besides, after tonight, there wasn't going to be a doubt in her mind what he meant.

_XoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoXoX_

It took a little fancy maneuvering, but eventually, they made it to the Hirastsuka Tanabata festival in Kanagawa Prefecture.

Saitou hadn't been to a Tanabata festival since high school. As a rule, he tended to shun most festivals except for Obon and New Year's, both of which he spent with his aunt. But as with most things he didn't care for, he was willing to make an exception for Tokio, and when he saw how delighted she was to be there, he was glad he had.

She took particular pleasure in the fact that the decorations began right at the train station and continued on from there into the city proper. And they were very nice decorations, but Saitou was more interested in the food stalls.

"I wish we could have gone home to change into yukata," she said wistfully, watching two young women in green and blue yukata walk by.

"It would have taken us longer," he pointed out, holding a dumpling out to her. "And by the time we'd have finally gotten here, it would have been crazier than it is now."

"I know," she said, taking a bite out of the dumpling and returning his smile with one of her own. "But I have a really pretty one I wear every year for Tanabata."

"The one in Sendai isn't until August," he said. "We could go to that one."

She looked up at him, surprised, then smiled.

"That's very accommodating of you," she said.

"You don't ask for much," he said with a shrug. He smirked. "Unless it's a holiday, that is."

"Jerk," she said with affection, looping her arm through his. "What about a wish?"

"What _about_ a wish?" he asked, offering her more of the dumpling.

She shook her head; he shrugged and finished it off.

"Would you be as accommodating if I asked if we could go write our wishes?" she asked.

"Possibly," he said in mock thoughtfulness. "Do me a favor, will you? I dropped my wallet into my right pocket here in my jacket, could you grab it?" He lifted the arm over which his jacket was draped.

"Why?" she asked, already fishing for it with two fingers.

"I see a soba stand," he said with a smile, and she laughed.

"Hajime, you're ridiculous—what is that?" she asked, frowning.

"I don't know, what is it?" he asked, his heart beating faster.

"It feels like a...box?" she finished as she took the plain little cardboard box out of the pocket and turned it around curiously, then looked up at him. "What is it?"

"Oh that?" he asked, affecting a nonchalance he didn't feel. "Nothing. Something I got for you."

She smiled. "For me? When? I didn't even see..."

She opened the box, and the smile slid off her face. She stared down into the box, then looked up at him.

"Hajime?" she asked weakly.

"Are you going to faint?" he asked, a little serious because she didn't look good.

"Maybe," she admitted, swallowing and looking back down at the box. She looked up at him. "Is this what I think it is?"

"What do you think it is?"

"A ring."

He looked down into the box, and the little white gold band with the two modest diamonds winked back at him on the cotton lining, exactly the way they had the day he'd bought it almost four months ago.

"Well it certainly is that," he agreed, and she softly punched his shoulder.

"I'm serious," she said. "Is this...are you...do you...?"

"I don't know what you're trying to ask me," he said, taking the box from her and taking the ring out to consider it. "But, if you're trying to ask me if this is an engagement ring, then yes, it is. And if you're trying to ask me if I'm serious, then yes, I am. And if you're trying to ask me if I want to marry you, then yes, I am." He looked up at her. "Is that the gist of it?"

"Yes," she said faintly, eyes huge in her face as she stared at him.

"Do you?" he asked quietly, holding the ring out to her. "Want to marry me, I mean."

She stared at him then whispered, "Y-yes."

He smiled faintly. "So will you marry me, Takagi Tokio?"

She smiled back, eyes filling, and threw her arms around him.

"Yes," she said, and he grinned and hugged her back, rocking back on his heels and lifting her off the ground, then setting her down and taking her left hand.

He slid the ring on her ring finger, and then they both admired it against her skin.

"I have good taste," Saitou decided. He smirked at her. "In jewelery and women."

She rolled her eyes, then leaned up and kissed his cheek.

"Come on," she said, tugging on his hand. "I want to write my wish."

"You mean I didn't make it come true? I'm a little offended," he said, and she sent him an exasperated look.

"I want to wish for a happy life," she said, then smiled. "For both of us. Together."

"We'll have that," he told her, and even though he was sort of kidding, he meant it.

"I know we will," she said, and humbled him with the absolute strength of her faith. "But a little extra help never hurt anyone."

"True," he conceded, and let her tug him toward where he could see, in the dying sunlight, many people writing and then attaching their wishes to bamboo Wish Trees.

She allowed him to tuck her under his arm, and Saitou decided that he was quite content with the world.

"I had no idea you had bought a ring," she said when they were waiting in line. "When did you get it?"

"The day after you got back," he said, and she looked shocked. He shrugged, embarrassed. "I missed you when you were gone. So I decided the only way to make sure you stayed around was to marry you."

Her eyes glowed with happiness as she looked up at him, and he smiled, leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

_Later_, he thought.

She insisted on his writing a wish of his own, so he did and dutifully attached it to the tree next to hers.

"A thought occurs," he said, as they were walking away, Tokio tucked under his arm again.

"Oh?" She looked up at him, and he smirked down at her.

"You're going to have to tell the Idiot Brigade to stop setting you up on blind dates—I don't share."

She flushed and poked his stomach; he grabbed her hand and threaded his fingers through hers.

"Which, of course, means you're going to have to tell them why, although I imagine that once they see _that_, they'll get the idea."

"But we work together," she began.

"Very well," he said. "And I don't see why that should change. Haven't we proven we can separate our personal lives from our work lives?"

"_I_ have," she said pointedly.

"Today was different," he said, sending her a dark look. "As if I'd allow them to—"

"As I recall, until I told you what was going on, _you_ didn't know," she said, arching an eyebrow. "So it was less _you_ allowing me to do anything, and more _me_ _giving you_ the option to think you allowed or didn't allow anything to happen."

They glared at each other for several moments before Tokio said, "I'm winning this one, so you can stop pouting already."

"I don't pout," he muttered, and she smiled.

"Yes you do," she said. "But you pout very ferociously," she added when his glare deepened. "Ominously?"

"Wait until we get home," he said under his breath, and she brightened.

"Does that mean you admit that I win?"

"Only because it would spoil the generally festive air of the day," he decided.

"Very generous of you," she said, amused.

"I think you'll find me a very generous husband," he said, and she smiled.

"At the very least, we're off to a promising start."

And Saitou was inclined to agree.


End file.
